


A Helping Hand

by ImSorryAheadOfTime



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Kinda, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, So yeah, and Alfred lends a hand, dubcon, male hunter - Freeform, the Hunter gets blood drunk, thigh riding, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSorryAheadOfTime/pseuds/ImSorryAheadOfTime
Summary: The Hunter is a bit of an idiot. Or perhaps he's just ill prepared. Either way, the Executioner, Alfred, has to save him from reawakening in the Dream yet again. Alfred (maybe accidentally, maybe on purpose, who can say) gets the Hunter blood drunk and, well, things happen from there.
Relationships: Alfred/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	A Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago and never edited it, time for this horny disaster to see the light of day!

Perhaps the good Hunter was not as good as he would have hoped. It was only his first hunt, after all, he was learning through much trial and error. Still, even he should have realized the mistakes he was about to make would cost him his life. For one, deciding to take on two church giants at the same time, and with a measly four blood vials in his pack. Better yet, the church giants were patrolling an oddly constructed plaza, covered in tombstones that presented an enormous tripping hazard to someone preoccupied with a looming death. 

Before the first giant fell, the Hunter was already out of vials. By the time the second giant was the only one standing, he was in a rather precarious situation. Bloodied, broken, lungs burning with the power of a thousand pyres, he was absolutely exhausted.

The giant reared back upon one foot, its formidable axe raised high above its head, momentarily blocking the apathetic moon.

The Hunter, desperate for escape, lunged clumsily to the right, only to find his efforts ceased by his ankle being caught by one of those accursed grave markers. With a thunderous crash, the axe head met and shattered some of the stones just a few inches from his face, the force of the blow sending rubble and dust into his eyes and shattering the giant's kneecap. Thank whatever Gods were listening to the Hunter's prayers, because that provided the perfect opportunity to escape. 

Directly behind the enormous beast was an open archway, and he limped towards it desperately. Every slight motion, even with adrenaline to dull the ache, made lightning shatter and crackle through his broken limb as if he was a darkbeast, but he continued on nonetheless.

But he could never hope to outrun the giant’s insatiable bloodlust.

Just as he thought he was clear of all harm, there was an earth-trembling roar from behind him, and suddenly there was a tremendous pain in his side. The Hunter, screaming out into the harsh, cold night, collapsed onto the ground. A pool of his own ichor was starting to form from the few seconds he lay, helpless, upon the stones. Dazed and bracing himself for the Dream, the Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the final blow that was doubtless seconds away. One second passed, then two, and he wondered if he had already been struck dead and was now laying on the cobblestone path at the workshop.

While submerged in darkness, he heard a shout that came neither from himself or the giant. Oddly enough, the voice it came from was familiar, comforting…

Alfred?

Indeed, upon opening his eyes once more, he spotted the Executioner. Every single one of Alfred's features were pulled back into a mask of unadulterated fury as he slashed the giant to death with just a few mighty swings from his greatsword. Honestly, the Hunter would be lying if he said that his pure anger wasn't a little frightening.  
Once the giant collapsed with a groan, its corpse and axe shattering the street upon impact, Alfred redirected his attention to the Hunter, sheathing his weapons.

"Good Hunter!" he started, kneeling at his friend's side. "Please, remain awake just a little longer."

The Hunter found it hard to comply, as his eyes itched for rest, and without his want, they began to close. Before he drifted off, however, a sharp sting of a blood vial into his thigh made his eyes shoot back open. The cool relief of his ribs returning to the correct positions made him sigh, almost in ecstasy, though not all of the suffering was yet a thing of the past.

“I am sorry if that hurts, being injected by another person,” Alfred apologized, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “I too am a little low on supplies, but I have more vials elsewhere… Can you stand?” he asked, holding out one gloved hand.

The Hunter, unsure if his broken leg had mended, took the offered hand and stood as cautiously as a newborn fawn. Just his luck; his leg was still very much shattered, and he collapsed onto Alfred, who bore his weight graciously. “Come along, friend,” he grunted, shifting the Hunter to carry him bridal-style to one of his posts, where they could be safe to heal. Gently, the Executioner set the injured hunter upon the odd grave marker in the center, long since forgotten and overrun with ivy. Though it was not nearly so comfortable as a proper bed, it was a preferable alternative to the brick underfoot.

Alfred then dashed towards a pile of supplies he had stashed in one corner of the odd courtyard, where he had enough blood vials to last him a hunt and then some. Taking three vials in hand, Alfred went to his friend's aid once again, quickly injecting them into the Hunter’s leg. “How do you feel?”

“Much better, thanks,” the Hunter answered, though he was almost drunk and drowsily full from the blood. No matter how hard he had tried to articulate his words, they came out a little slurred.

That didn't escape Alfred's notice. “Ah, a little tipsy, are we? Would you like to rest here for a time? Just until the blood wears off.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the Hunter yawned, stretching stiffly. He realized all at once that not only did he feel tipsy, his thoughts all blurry and far away, but he was also ungodly hot, the heat of the sun making its home in his core, warming him from the inside. Sweat began to bead at his forehead, his pulse quickening. “Alfred, can I make a strange request?”

“Of course, my friend,” he answered softly, sitting beside the Hunter on the tombstone, his spring-green eyes bright with concern.

“I just- is it quite alright with you if I take off my coat and gloves and whatnot?”

“If it makes you more comfortable, then please do.”

Gods bless the hunter of Vilebloods for his kindness. Nervously, the Hunter removed his outermost layers- his gloves, his hat, his coat, his mask, all of it set neatly aside on the wrought iron fence. As to why he was so nervous as to nearly shake, he wasn’t precisely sure. Normally he was perfectly at ease in Alfred’s presence, but right now, their proximity, their arms nearly touching from sitting side by side, it made all his nerves sing. He wanted to be closer. No, he _needed_ to be closer.

The Hunter slid that much nearer to Alfred, their hands brushing, and he uttered a silent thanks that the Executioner didn’t move away.

“Oh, are you cold, good Hunter?” he asked. Before the Hunter could answer, he wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding him against his side.

Any sense of shame completely vanished, and the Hunter happily snuggled against Alfred’s strong body, practically melting against him. Alfred hummed, something the Hunter more felt than heard, and his arm held the Hunter even tighter. 

“I know,” Alfred began softly, brushing a lock of black hair out of the Hunter’s eyes, “I know being blood drunk can be disorienting. Unpleasant, even. Your senses heightened yet all your reactions slowed… if there is anything you desire, my friend, do tell me, and I shall gladly provide if I can.”

Before he could stop himself, the Hunter hugged Alfred tightly. “Can I have a kiss?”

“A kiss?” Alfred chuckled warmly. “Good Hunter, I do not want to take advantage of you when you-”

“No, no please,” the Hunter whined. “It isn’t taking advantage, please, I want it.”

Alfred sighed before planting a chaste kiss on the top of the Hunter’s head. Nearly growling with frustration, the Hunter twisted his hands into Alfred’s cloak and tugged him forwards into a proper, if not sloppy, kiss. When Alfred gave in to the Hunter’s silent demands and began reciprocating, oh gods, the Hunter could have died of joy right then and there.

“Take what you need, love,” Alfred murmured, leaning back and gently petting the Hunter’s cheek, the rough leather of his gloves a stark contrast to the soft touch.

The Hunter certainly didn’t need to be told twice. He desperately kissed Alfred’s face, running his hands through his golden curls, and the sighs and moans that Alfred let out made him feel all the more drunk. His mind was completely hazy, now filled only with desires and his overwhelming need to sate the growing heat in his groin. Words ceased to exist in his mind, he could barely think of how to ask for what he wanted, so instead, he simply acted.

He changed their positions so rather than sitting side-by-side, the Hunter was now sitting in Alfred’s lap, practically straddling one of his thighs, and pulled him into a heated embrace. The Hunter’s kisses were inelegant, nothing but teeth and tongue and desperation, while Alfred was gentle and slow and patient, treating the Hunter as though he were a porcelain doll. 

“Oh my, someone’s truly needy, aren’t they?” Alfred cooed as he carefully untangled himself from the Hunter’s embrace.

It took the Hunter a moment to realize what he actually meant- at some point, he had begun rutting against Alfred’s leg, searching for any sort of friction or relief for his now painful erection. “‘M sorry,” the Hunter panted, though he continued to hump Alfred’s clothed thigh. He didn’t think he could stop if he wanted to, truthfully, it felt too good, it sent jolts of energy through his bones, making his heart flutter and his stomach turn so pleasantly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“Shh.” Alfred gingerly took the Hunter’s face in his hands, running a thumb over his lips. “Hush, it’s quite alright, love. You need this, you deserve this.” He tensed his thigh, lifting it ever so slightly so it was pressing more against the Hunter’s erection.

The Hunter moaned, resting his head against Alfred’s chest as he settled into a much faster rhythm, rutting against the executioner shamelessly. Alfred, all the while, encouraged him onwards, telling him that he looked so good like this, that he was so beautiful when he was so needy.

How long the Hunter continued to hump against Alfred, he wasn’t sure, but it was enough that the pressure in his core was building immensely, that all his muscles were incredibly tense and on the verge of snapping.

“Are you close, darling?” Alfred asked sympathetically. “Here, let me help you.” With surprising dexterity given his gloves, Alfred unclasped the Hunter’s belt and pants, tugging the fabric down until the Hunter’s arousal was on display. Alfred smiled oh so kindly, the sight making the Hunter’s heart throb, and the executioner took his cock in hand, stroking it delicately, pressing his thumb against the head.

The Hunter keened and whined, thrusting now into Alfred’s hand. Fuck, the friction hurt, it burned, he was positive he was rubbing the skin raw, but it hurt _so good_. He began muttering nonsense under his breath, a litany of “please” and “so close” and “so good”. He was vaguely aware of Alfred shushing him again, but the world faded away when, at last, the heat reached a crescendo, and the Hunter came. His vision went white and he collapsed yet again against the executioner as he spilled his cum all over Alfred’s hand. 

Wave after wave of pleasure wracked the Hunter’s weak body, and he could do nothing but quiver and tremble helplessly. Alfred continued to stroke his cock through it all, not stopping until every last drop of cum was spilled and the Hunter began trying to move away from the overstimulation.

“You did wonderfully, my friend,” Alfred purred, cradling the Hunter against him while tossing his now soiled gloves aside. “Rest, now. I shall watch over you until you awake.”

“Thank you,” the Hunter breathed, allowing his eyes to shut again. “Thank you so much.”

He drifted off soon thereafter, having never felt safer nor happier than he was in that moment, secure in Alfred’s arms.


End file.
